


Missing

by adiwriting



Category: Glee
Genre: Depression, Drug Use, Future Fic, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiwriting/pseuds/adiwriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It only took a minute for Kurt and Blaine's life to change forever, but it will take years for them to get over the disappearance of their only son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story turned out to be much more difficult to get through than I thought it would. I've written angst heavy things before, but the thought of Kurt and Blaine loosing their only child to kidnapping was pretty rough. I hope I did the topic justice and that the prompter is happy. I could have written 30k more on this subject at least, but it was just too much for my heart to handle and try to get them back to a happy place.

My name is Peyton Anderson-Hummel. Yes, Anderson like Blaine Anderson the singer. And Hummel for Kurt Hummel, the owner of Transpose Theatre Company, or TTC as they are commonly known. I was five years old when I was taken on August 14, 2028. I was the first of many boys that year to be taken away from their homes. Kidnapped, played with and later murdered, never to return home again.

At the time I was taken, I was going through a superhero phase, as most young boys do. Some days I would be Ironman. Others I was Captain America. But most days, I wanted to be Batman. He just seemed so cool. He always wore nice suits like my papa and daddy and he had the coolest car. I wanted to be Bruce Wayne.

But that wasn’t why I was taken.

I was taken because I was young, young enough to still have all of my baby fat. I was taken because I was brunette, had blue eyes and because I looked like him. That’s what he always said, at least. I never found out who _he_ was. I guess it’s unimportant now.

My kidnapper was a man from my papa’s theatre. Charlie Green. A stagehand that didn’t really know my family but had seen enough of me running around backstage during rehearsals, or sitting front and center on my daddy’s lap on show nights. I didn’t know that. He told me that he knew my papa and I trusted him. Stranger danger doesn’t usually apply to people that work for your father.

For three months I was held in a dingy apartment in Little Italy. Twice police stopped by to interview Charlie, but they never found me locked in the big wooden trunk that smelled like pine. Charlie didn’t let me watch the news, but there were nights that he would watch it in the other room. Those were the nights I would hear my fathers pleading for my safe return. Those were the nights I cried the hardest. I didn’t want my fathers to be sad. I just wanted to go home.

On November 13th, 2028, Charlie decided that I wasn’t fun anymore. He had found a new little boy, somebody in Queens, that he wanted more. Somebody that resembled him closer. I had known it was coming. Even in my tiny, five year old mind, I could recognize Charlie growing bored with me. He seemed less interested when he would gaze at me, his voice no longer soothing and caring after our “games”. So on that day, when he unlocked my door and came into my room, I fought back harder than I ever had before. Admittedly, that wasn’t a lot for a five year old that was small for his age, but I tried. I scratched and I kicked and I even managed to give him a scar under his right eye that he still has today, but I could never win.

And by 7:49pm that night, 91 days, six hours and thirteen minutes after I was taken, I was dead.

***

**August 14, 2028**

The apartment was chaotic to say the least. Peyton was running around in a Batman cape, refusing to change out of his pajamas. Blaine was at the stove trying to cook them all eggs for breakfast since Kurt had forgotten to pick up more milk for the household staple fruit and cereal. Kurt was on the phone to China, trying to figure out what happened to all of the costumes they had ordered a few weeks ago.

In other words, it was a normal Saturday morning for the busy Anderson-Hummel clan.

“Peyton needs to be fitted for his uniform,” Blaine said, accepting his good morning kiss on the cheek after Kurt hung up the phone.

“I can’t believe he’s already starting kindergarten.”

Blaine just smiled at his husband and moved to put the last omelet on a plate. Kurt took their plates to the kitchen table while Blaine moved to wrestle their overactive son into a chair to eat. They were a well oiled machine by this point, married for 9 years and parents for 5.

“Can you take him to the store and get him measured?” Blaine asked, scarfing down his food as fast as possible so he could get to work on time.

“Today?” Kurt responded, giving him the look that said it all. He’d forgotten that he was supposed to watch Peyton today.

“I have a show this afternoon,” Blaine said slowly. “We talked about this last week. You told me you would stay at home.”

“No, of course,” Kurt said. “It’s no big deal. I’ve got to stop by the theatre to make sure that the set pieces are finished being painted, but Peyton can come with me. Right, babe?”

“My name is Bruce,” Peyton said, glaring at his papa.

He’d been on a Batman kick for days, refusing to go by his own name or leave the house dressed up in anything but his Batman costume or his tuxedo. It was Bruce Wayne or nothing. Blaine and Kurt indulged it when they could, but Blaine was always much better at remembering to refer to Peyton by his superhero of the week title than Kurt was.

“Bruce, sorry,” Kurt said. “Do you mind going with papa to the theatre for a few minutes? We can get ice cream after?”

“I want to go with Daddy to his show,” Peyton pouted.

“We will go to the show after, but daddy has to go early to work and you need your uniform for school,” Kurt explained.

“Did Batman wear a uniform to school?” he asked, his bottom lip still stuck on in the way that usually made Blaine bend to his every whim. Kurt smiled as Peyton directed his pout at his daddy.

“I’m sure he did, why don’t you go with your papa today and this afternoon I’ll let you sing a song with me on stage?” Blaine asked, pulling their son into his lap so he could wrap his arms around him.

Kurt loved watching the two of them together. They were his life and being able to see them laugh and smile at each other always warmed his heart.

“I’m going to go jump in the shower, can you get him dressed?” Kurt asked.

“Of course,” Blaine said, tilting his head up and puckering his lips, asking for a kiss. Kurt obliged, leaning over to kiss his husband and was pleasantly surprised when Blaine opened his mouth and began nibbling on his lower lip.

“What was that for?” Kurt asked, flushed when he pulled away again.

“I needed my good luck kiss for tonight,” he said, smile still as charming as it had been that first day on the Dalton staircase.

“Don’t tell me the famous Blaine Anderson has stage fright,” Kurt teased.

“I’ve never performed my new stuff before and it’s been months since I was onstage,” he said, trying to justify himself. Kurt rolled his eyes. This was typical Blaine—worry incessantly about a show and then walk on stage with all the confidence in the world, charming everyone he plays for.

“Don’t be nervous,” Kurt said lovingly. “They are going to love you as much as we already do. Peyton and I will be rooting you on the entire time.”

“Yeah!” Peyton yelled, excited. He always loved going to his daddy’s shows.

About an hour later—and fifteen minutes later than he’d planned—Kurt and Peyton left their apartment in Chelsea and made their way to the subway so they could head into Midtown. It was a little after ten, so Kurt still had plenty of time to get Peyton a uniform and stop by the theatre for a few minutes before they would have to be in Tribeca for Blaine’s gig.

“I don’t want to work today,” Peyton whined, as he sat next to Kurt on the subway. He was wearing dress pants, a white button up, a grey cardigan and a blue bow tie. Blaine had tried to convince him that it was too hot to wear so many layers, but Peyton had insisted. He wanted to look just like his daddy.

“Me neither, but it’s only for a minute,” Kurt promised, hoping that was true. If the set wasn’t done correctly, he was going to get stuck their much longer. Next week was their dry run and they needed to make sure they had everything ready to go.

“You always say that,” he grumbled.

Kurt felt bad. He knew that it couldn’t be easy for his son to have such busy fathers. Blaine wasn’t so famous yet that he had to travel a lot, but he was still constantly in the studio, doing gigs or interviews for various articles. And Kurt was running a fairly successful, if small, theatre company of his own. Their house was never lacking in love, but it was occasionally lacking in time.

This was why Kurt and Blaine were so excited for Peyton to be starting kindergarten in two weeks. Peyton had gotten into one of the top private schools in the city. They had been so proud of their son when they received the phone call that he had been accepted.

They were hoping, now that Peyton was in school, they could finally get rid of the nanny they had always felt guilty for needing. They had made a promise to each other to try their best to get their work done when Peyton was at school so that at least one of them could always be home every night with him. Besides, it would be good for their son to start playing with children his own age. His closest friend at the moment was Stanley down the street and he had only just turned four last week.

“Hey,” Kurt said, hunching down in his seat so that he could be at his eye level. “I love you so much, alright? I’ll love you forever.”

“I’ll like you for always,” his boy replied, with a small roll of his eyes. Peyton thought that he was getting to old for the childish exchanges, but Kurt didn’t care.

“As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be,” he said, kissing his son on the top of his head.

They exited the subway and walked three blocks to the uniform outlet store. Inside, there were countless rows of dark colored blazers, sweaters, vests and pants. It made Kurt think of Dalton. Of the glorious days he shared with Blaine free from bullies or judging eyes. As much as Peyton looked exactly like Kurt with his bright blue eyes, he knew that once he had a school uniform on, he wouldn’t be able to see anyone but mini-Blaine.

“I want red, like Spiderman!” Peyton called, going straight for a red blazer hanging on the wall. Their son had always appreciated nice dress clothes, at least when he wasn’t wearing superhero costumes. It worked out well for Kurt and Blaine, who had always put more thought into their wardrobe than most of their peers and would rather die than put their son in basketball shorts or T-shirts.

“But your school colors are green, grey, and yellow,” Kurt said, pulling out the school shopping list he had brought with him. There was a list of approved brands and styles on the page that Kurt was allowed to chose from.

“Like the Green Lantern?” he asked, walking back over to Kurt with his head down. “Nobody likes him,”

“I thought you liked Loki. Doesn’t he wear green?” Kurt asked, trying to rack his brain for what little comic book knowledge he had. It wasn’t much. He usually had Blaine to deal with these things. He was the expert on children’s books and Disney Channel.

“I guess,” he said with a pout. “Are you sure we can’t get red?”

“Sorry bud,” Kurt said, taking his hand and bringing him over to the counter. Peyton would need to get measured for his uniform. Kurt could have tailored everything himself, but it would take too long and it was too close to show opening for him to worry about it. It was worth the extra money to get it done for them.

“And who is this dapper little fellow?” an older looking women came out from a door behind the counter to look at them. She looked nice enough. She had big welcoming eyes, though they were mostly hidden by thick glasses. Her hair was almost completely grey, but her smile made her face seem so much younger than she probably was.

“I’m Bruce Wayne,” Peyton said, holding out his hand politely like he practiced in the mirror.

“So you’re the famous Batman?” she said with an easy laugh. She took his hand and blushed when he kissed it.

“Shhh,” he responded, holding his finger up to his mouth. “It’s a secret.”

Kurt often wondered if this was how he seemed to everyone else when he was younger—Small, precocious and slightly conceited. It was always amusing to see other people’s reactions when they noticed how put together and well spoken his son was. It was most surprising, he figured, because Peyton was so small for his age. A preemie, born at 25 weeks, who lost his mother during childbirth. Though he had an overwhelming amount of health problems early on, he’d been developing much more normally lately. With the exception of some lingering lung problems, his small frame is the only sign that he was ever premature.

“This is Peyton, he starts kindergarten in two weeks,” Kurt said.

“And he needs a uniform?” the saleswoman turned to him and asked.

“He needs to be fitted; I don’t know if you sell anything small enough on the floor?” Kurt asked, as he handed over the list the school had given him.

“Wow, this is one of the best schools in the state,” she said, giving him a big smile. “You must be so proud.”

“Incredibly.”

His phone started going off in his pocket and he hurried to dig it out and see who it was.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to take this,” he said with an apologetic look. “Peyton, let this nice lady take your measurements so that we can hurry up and get out of here.”

“Kurt Hummel speaking,” he answered his phone, watching as the women took Peyton behind the counter and into a back room, where, presumably, she has all of her supplies.

“Kurt? It’s Angie,” his assistant responded. She sounded out of breath and slightly hysterical, which could only mean bad news. “The costumes finally came in.”

“Oh, that’s good then,” he said, wondering why she seemed so upset.

“No, you don’t understand,” she said. “They are all purple.”

“What do you mean they are all purple?” he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep his headache at bay. He _just_ talked to their supplier this morning.

“I don’t know. I’m looking at the order and it clearly says blue, but I’m staring at the box right now and they are _very_ purple.”

“Call the supplier, see what can be done and demand a full refund,” he said, trying not to panic. “Then when you are done, call Ashley and have her go to every fabric store in the area and buy out all of the blue she can find. We’ll have to make the costumes ourselves.”

These things happened all the time; it was part of running a theatre company. Managing a group of artists was never supposed to be easy work, but he was used to it by now.

“But we’ll never be able to finish them in time,” she said, though her voice was notably calmer now that she had orders to obey.

“I can call in a few favors and get some extra hands, but we’re probably looking at more than a few long nights.”

They exchanged a few more words and Kurt promised to be by in an hour, as soon as he finished up here with Peyton. He hung up the phone and sent a quick text message off to Blaine.

_To Blaine: All of my costumes are purple. PURPLE! Since when is that acceptable for a military uniform?_

Blaine’s response was almost immediate.

_To Kurt: You’ll find a way to make it work._

Kurt snorted at that. Leave it to Blaine to try and be positive no matter what.

_To Blaine: PURPLE! Did you not understand what I said_

As he continued to text Blaine, he headed towards the back room to check up on Peyton. He watched as she tried to get his hyperactive son to settle down enough to get a proper measurement.

“How’s it going?” he asked. He stood behind his son to hold him still so that she could hurry up and finish. They had places to be.

“It’s going great,” she said with an easy smile. She didn’t seem at all phased by the fact that Peyton kept dancing and almost kicking her every time she moved to measure his inseam.

“Peyton, hold still so she can finish,” he said.

“Your son was just telling me all about the songs he likes to sing,” she explained, quickly finishing up her measurements as Peyton managed to stay still for a minute.

“Yeah, he’s talented like his daddy,” he said watching as Peyton started humming one of Blaine’s more popular songs.

“My papa sings, too sometimes,” he said, smiling at the woman and giving her a high five when she told him that he was finished. Peyton hopped down off of the stool he was standing on and started dancing around the room while Kurt filled out some forms and prepaid for all of the items.

“Thank you,” he said, grabbing onto Peyton’s hand and pulling them out of the store. They were almost to the deli that he was planning on getting sandwiches from when his phone went off again.

_To Kurt: So I guess this means you won’t be making it to the show?_

Kurt stared at Blaine’s text for a minute, unsure what to say. He knew that this was a big deal for Blaine. It was his first show in a few months, and it would be the first time he performed songs that he had actually written himself. His fourth LP was set to be released in a few weeks and his husband had been working so hard to make sure that it was perfect. He hated that he was going to have to miss it, but he didn’t really have another option.

There were only twelve days until opening night and they were already way behind schedule as it was. He couldn’t afford to push this show back even another week. There was a rent to cover, the crew had to be paid, and they were running out of money from their last production. They needed to start performing again so they could sell tickets.

_To Blaine: How mad would you be?_

_To Kurt: Never mad..._

He rolled his eyes; of course Blaine would never admit that he was mad. Or even that he was hurt, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t.

_To Blaine: I’m so sorry, I was really looking forward to seeing you perform._

Kurt put the phone in his pocket and went up to the counter to order some lunch for everyone at the theatre. It was the least he could do for calling people in on their day off work.

“I’m going to have to work a little bit longer than I planned on, Bud,” Kurt said, giving his son an apologetic look.

Peyton bit his bottom lip and nodded, trying not to look betrayed. Kurt saw through it. He knew how much it meant to his son to be able to spend time with both of his fathers. He had been looking forward to this concert all week.

Peyton didn’t say anything; he stared at the ground and crossed his arms over his chest tightly. Kurt wanted to apologize some more. He hated when he was unhappy, but there was nothing he could say to fix this. He couldn’t not stay and help out his crew.

He pulled out his phone again, once he had all of the bags situated and was upset to see that Blaine hadn’t responded. He was sure that his husband was upset now, and it killed him that he’d managed to disappoint his two favorite people.

_To Blaine: I’ll call the nanny to come and get Peyton so he isn’t stuck at the theatre all day without any toys_

Barely a minute later, Blaine responded.

_To Kurt: Just have her bring him here, I’ll keep an eye on him until showtime and there are enough people to watch him when I’m onstage._

He made a quick phone call to their nanny, Emily, to make sure that she was free for a little bit, and promised to pay her extra for coming to get Peyton. She agreed and told him not to worry.

The two of them made their way a few more blocks until they reached the small theatre that belonged to Kurt. Peyton usually loved running around here, viewing the stage as his own personal playground, but today he didn’t even glance up as he was let inside. Kurt sat him down on the stage with a sandwich and a juice box.

“Stay here, I’m going to go find Angie,” he said. Peyton nodded but didn’t look up from his sandwich. Kurt was going to have to do something really special with him on his next day off to make up for this. Maybe they could go to the zoo, Peyton loved the penguin exhibit.

Kurt went off looking for his assistant, knowing that there were only a few places she could be. The building was small, apart from the hundred and fifty seat auditorium; they only had a small office, a dressing room and a backstage area. Even their storage had to be kept off site because there just wasn’t enough room to hold anything but the current show they were working on.

Few people were here, it being Monday, their usual dark day. He passed one or two stage hands, putting finishing touches on props and backdrops that should have been finished last week. He found Angie in the office, yelling at somebody over the phone. She looked up to see him and gave him a small wave before returning to her argument. He gestured that he would be waiting outside for her and she nodded.

The entire thing hadn’t taken more than a minute or two. When Kurt got back out to the stage, Peyton was gone. Kurt rolled his eyes; he didn’t really feel like playing hide and seek right now. He had a lot to do, but he figured this was his son’s way of punishing him for working on his day off.

“Peyton,” he called out, but the only sound he heard was his own voice echoing back at him.

“Peyton Anderson-Hummel, we are not playing right now,” he yelled, loud enough that his voice could be heard wherever his son had chosen to hide in the building.

Nothing. Kurt tried to remain patient. He was only five after all, he didn’t understand how pressed for time his papa was. He was just angry and upset. He looked down to see Peyton’s sandwich was in the aisle, next to a row of chairs, one bite taken out of it. That was strange; Peyton wasn’t usually a messy child.

“I’m going to count to ten,” Kurt yelled, his voice growing a little bit more upset. There was something that just didn’t feel right about this. He stepped off the short stage and into the seating area, walking down the aisle to see if Peyton was hiding behind one of the chairs.

“One.”

Not in the first three rows.

“Two.”

Not anywhere on stage left.

“Three.”

He wasn’t hiding by the box office window.

“Four.”

He couldn’t be in the auditorium. There were not enough spaces to hide in properly.

“Five.”

Nobody backstage had seen Peyton walk by either, but now Gale and Harrison were on their feet looking for him, too.

“Six.”

He looked in the dressing room under every vanity.

“Seven.”

There was a small door in the back that led to an alley, but the door had been locked all day and Peyton was too short to reach the lock. Still, he peeked out back, nothing.

“Eight.”

There was a small closet that Peyton liked to play dress up in sometimes. He wasn’t there either.

“Nine.”

Peyton had never let Kurt get this far in the countdown before. He was just like Blaine, always terrified to break the rules. He hated being in trouble. Something was seriously wrong.

“Ten.”

Where the hell was his son?

Kurt tried to remind himself to stay calm. Kids wondered off all of the time and were found. This was no different. It wasn’t like he could really get lost; he’d grown up in this theatre. He knew his way around. It wasn’t like him to run off, he wouldn’t have left the building without asking first. Kurt knew everybody that had a key, they were all his employees who loved Peyton. They wouldn’t have taken him.

No. This was all a big misunderstanding.

Kurt wasted no time in calling Blaine. His voice was high pitched and frantic, trying so hard to stay calm. Peyton wasn’t going to get found if he was too busy having a mental breakdown. Blaine, just as worried as Kurt, caught a cab and showed up to help search. Cast and crew walked up and down the surrounding blocks looking for any sign up him, but they turned up nothing.

When forty-five minutes hit and they still hadn’t found Peyton, Angie called the police.

“What if we don’t find him?” Kurt said, trying so hard to hold back his tears. This was his fault. He never should have left Peyton alone like that, even if it was for a minute; even though it was in a building that he owned with people he trusted. This was his fault and now his beautiful, perfect son was gone.

“He’s okay,” Blaine said, pulling Kurt into a tight, desperate hug. “He has to be okay.”

“Yeah.”

Neither one of them said what they were really thinking. That little kids get taken all the time, and rarely are they ever found again.

They didn’t pull apart from each other until they heard the sirens. Kurt and Blaine walked out to open the door and meet the police on the curb. He was startled by the amount of police cars that turned onto their block. There were way too many for a boy that had simply wandered off. The police had to be thinking that he’d been taken.

Kurt tried not to picture his son with a stranger. Tried not to picture Peyton alone and scared with somebody he didn’t know doing horrible things to him. He couldn’t think of that. Not when he still was so close. Peyton needed him to keep it together long enough to find him.

“Mr. Hummel and Mr. Anderson?” a police offer approached the two of them. He was a tall fellow, a bit lanky like Finn, but built. His name tag said Newman.

“Yes?” Blaine said, Kurt was too emotional to speak. There were at least fifteen police officers now standing outside of the theatre. It should have been comforting, but it just reminded him that something was horribly wrong. They were there because he hadn’t done his job as a parent. He hadn’t protected their son.

“You brought a lot of police officers,” Kurt said, not even meaning to.

“We take the disappearance of a child very seriously,” the officer said.

“So you think that he was...” Blaine started to say but he couldn’t seem to make himself vocalize what they were all thinking. Kidnapped. Peyton had probably been kidnapped.

“Oh, we’ll find him. Lost kids, we always find and they’re okay,” he said with a reassuring smile.

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s side tightly, not daring to let themselves voice their hope, afraid to jinx it.

“It’s only if it gets to five hours that... We’re going to find him before that happens.”

Five hours. Would Peyton really be gone that long? What if the police couldn’t find him? What if they never saw him again?

The officer headed inside, leaving Blaine and Kurt to stand outside stunned.

“Blaine,” he said, his voice shaking, tears already falling down his face.

“I know.” Blaine wrapped his arm around Kurt’s shoulder as he began crying. “Maybe he just went off to find some ice cream,” he said. His voice sounded falsely optimistic. He knew how unrealistic it was.

“He didn’t even finish his sandwich,” he cried. “He just left it there, like he dropped it but never bothered to pick it up. That’s not... Oh, my God!”

“Hey, no, stop this,” Blaine said. He pulled him back and shook him a little, trying to stop him from breaking down completely. He was a little late. In fact, Kurt didn’t know how he was keeping it together. He looked upset, worried, sure, but he wasn’t crying hysterically. Perhaps because he wasn’t the one that would have to live with the guilt of losing their only son... the miracle baby they had fought so hard to get.

“They are going to find him. You heard what that officer said,” he said, though it sounded like he was reassuring himself. “He’s going to be perfectly fine and we’ll all laugh about how much we overreacted later.”

“Okay,” he said, wiping his tears on the end of his sleeve, not even caring if he was ruining his shirt by tugging at the sleeves. There were far more important things than clothes.

****

They tell me that my dads looked for hours. That they didn’t go home until the next morning, instead, they spent the entire night answering questions for police officers and detectives and walked all over New York showing off my photo. When they finally did go home, it was only for a quick nap and shower before they headed back out again.

It makes me sad to know how many times they got so close; to hear that my kidnapper had the audacity to join in on the search for me. Anyone that I had ever met, all of my father’s friends joined search parties in those first few weeks of my absence. I wish I had known how many people knew my name. I wish I had realized that my face was plastered all over New York City.

Maybe I would have tried harder to escape. They tell me that it’s silly to think like that. The past is the past and it can’t be changed. It still makes me wonder. I had just been so young at the time, though I look back now and see plenty of ways I could have gotten out, there was no way a five year old boy would have been able to manage it.

My only hope now is that they stop Charlie Green before he can hurt any more of us, and there are already so many of us. My only hope is that they can catch him and bring my parents some closure. It pains me to have to watch them as they are now. So broken and destroyed by this. My papa consumed by guilt, unable to do anything most days besides lie in bed and cry. My daddy, trying his best to hold them both together, spends most days drowning his sorrows with alcohol, no longer singing for fun. No longer performing because it’s his passion, he does it to keep food on the table because my papa won’t work anymore. On the days that it’s really bad, on the days I’m not sure my papa even remembers how to love, my daddy goes to that dirty dark place that scares me. The place that so many bad men go to and he takes those nasty drugs and loses himself.

I worry that they’re going to die having never been happy again.

I hope that my parents can learn to live again. I want my daddy to let go of his anger. I wish my papa could let go of his guilt. I just hope they can learn to love again.

****

**Denial: August 21, 2028**

One hundred and eighty-eight hours. That’s how long it had been since Peyton went missing. Seven days. An entire week without their beloved son. Kurt and Blaine were going crazy. They had heard the murmurs of statistics. Some average that claimed their son was dead within the first twenty-four hours.

They’d refused to believe it. They’d called everyone they knew. They’d knocked on as many doors in New York City as they possibly could. Kurt and Blaine were determined to find Peyton. They knew that when they finally found him, their little boy would be alive. He just had to be.

Blaine gave as many interviews as he could. Used what little fame he had on his side to get word out about their son. Kurt took over the search headquarters. He spend the days directing volunteers, canvassing neighborhoods and chasing leads the police had thrown out. When he wasn’t in the cramped gymnasium of the community center that had been turned into their main office, he was at the police station demanding answers.

Eventually, after a long day, Kurt always ended up back in the same place—the small little theatre that he owned, the last place that Peyton was seen. Kurt always came here when the guilt and fear became too much for him to handle. Sometimes he’d end up here as early as noon, other days he wouldn’t get here until three am, distracted earlier with chasing down a promising tip.

Blaine would find him there every night and bring him home. Some nights, Blaine would find Kurt hysterically crying. Those were the nights Blaine prayed for—not that it ever made him happy to see Kurt in pain—but those were the nights that Kurt was willing to accept help. Ever since Peyton’s disappearance, Blaine had been feeling his husband was pushing him away. It was understandable, given the stress they were both under, but they’d already lost a son, did they have to lose each other too?

Today was one of those days. Blaine had been stuck working late, performing for a late night talk show. He hated being up onstage while his little boy was out there with some sick asshole, but he knew it was his responsibility to keep a roof over their heads. It wouldn’t do to get Peyton back only to be evicted from their apartment because they fell behind on bills. Besides, performing was a good way of getting Peyton’s name out there, of keeping him in the media. The more exposure their case got, the more likely somebody would recognize Peyton and call the police.

When he finally left his gig, it was nearing midnight. He picked up the phone to call Kurt and see where he was. When his husband didn’t answer, he knew there was only one place he could be. It wasn’t often that either of them could be found without their phones. They tried to keep them close on the off chance Peyton ever tried to call them for help. Or the police needed to contact them. Or worse, the kidnapper called for a ransom. They’d pledged to always be reachable. If Kurt wasn’t answering, he was at the theatre, too lost in his grief to hear his phone.

“Kurt,” Blaine called out after he unlocked and entered the theatre. He got a few sniffles as his answer. He was surprised to see Kurt sitting to his left in one of the chairs in the back row. Usually, he was onstage standing in the same spot he’d left Peyton.

“Hey,” Blaine said softly, sitting down an empty chair next to Kurt.

He took a deep breath to control the irrational rage that always went through him when he saw Kurt like this. He hated seeing his husband in pain. He knew that none of this was either of their faults; that the fault rested in the hands of the person who took their child. He couldn’t help but think—if only for a split second each time—that Kurt should feel guilty. Kurt had been the one responsible for Peyton. He’d been the one too distracted by his work to see somebody taking off with their child.

However, just like every time before, that moment of rage would pass. Kurt wasn’t a bad father. Nobody deserved to have to feel the kind of pain the two of them were living with, least of all the man who he loved more than anything.

Blaine gently reached over and silently pulled Kurt into his arms.

“I overheard some officers discussing the case when I was at the station today,” Kurt sniffles, leaning his head on Blaine’s shoulder.

“What did they say?” Blaine asked, reminding himself not to get hopeful. Kurt would have called him with even the tiniest of good news. Good news wouldn’t have brought Kurt to the theatre and caused him to look so lost.

“They don’t think we’re going to find him alive, if we even find him at all,” Kurt said. He sounded as bad as Blaine felt.

“Do you think they know something that we don’t?” Blaine asked, barely louder than a whisper. He could feel a lump in his throat as a cold dose of reality rushed over him. He wasn’t going to give up on his son, he never would, but what if the statistics were right. What would he do if they found out their son was dead?

Kurt violently shrugged Blaine’s arm off of him and stood up to glare down at him.

“He’s not dead!” he yells.

“I never said he was,” Blaine said, putting his arms up defensively. He wasn’t going to goad Kurt into a fight. It would be too easy to become each other’s punching bags. They didn’t need that right now, they needed love and support, not a partner that could very easily break their fragile glass house with the right words. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Peyton needed two loving parents to come home to; he was going to be traumatized when they found him.

“They’re just sitting there not doing anything! Meanwhile, Peyton’s probably cold and hungry, wondering where we are! We have to find him,” Kurt said, breathing heavily like he’s trying to hold himself together.

Blaine stood up and wrapped his arms around Kurt, pulling him in close. He didn’t let go, even when Kurt tried to push him away. He just kept holding on until his husband finally stopped trying to fight him. He took a deep breath and put his hands around Blaine, grabbing at his shirt like he was afraid Blaine would disappear, too.

“We’re going to find him,” Blaine said with such conviction that anybody would believe him. “Those police don’t know what they are talking about; they are working off of statistics. They don’t know our Peyton.”

“He’s a fighter,” Kurt said into Blaine’s neck. He could feel fresh tears on his skin, but he ignored them.

“Just like his papa,” Blaine said with a bittersweet smile. He was holding back his own tears, tears that stemmed from doubt. What if they didn’t find him? What if the police were right? Most kids were dead within twenty-four hours and it’s been a week.

Blaine didn’t let himself linger too long in that doubt, however. Even if eighty-eight percent of children were dead within the first day they went missing, there was still that twelve percent that weren’t. Blaine wasn’t going to stop looking as long as there was still a chance. He’d never be able to live with himself if he gave up on his baby boy.

****

**Anger: October 15, 2028**

“Why are you still up?” Blaine said as he did his best not to stumble through the front door. Kurt was sitting on the couch watching old home movies of Peyton. He had the computer open on his lap and newspaper clippings and suspect sketches scattered over the coffee table. Blaine knew why his husband was still up at 3am, he just wished he wasn’t.

It wasn’t that Blaine didn’t want to find Peyton. He desperately did. He was just more realistic about their situation than Kurt. He wasn’t going to suddenly realize where his son was by looking at old videos of Peyton at 3 in the morning. He wasn’t going to look at the same sketches the police have had for months and magically know who kidnapped their child.

“Why are you just getting home?” Kurt retorted, giving him a judgmental look.

“Don’t make me the bad guy here,” Blaine said, walking into the kitchen and managing to get a bottle of water out of the fridge without running into anything. No matter how straight he managed to walk, nothing would hide how drunk he was. He was sure that Kurt could smell the liquor dripping off of him. He knew that Kurt could see it in how red his face was and how glazed over his eyes were.

“Of course not,” Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. “Because nothing is ever Blaine Anderson’s fault.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Blaine said, trying to reign in his temper. He didn’t want to start a fight, he just wanted to pass out in bed.

“It means that not all of us can be the perfect parent,” Kurt said in a vicious tone. Blaine has slowly watched his loving husband turn into this bitter shell of a man, but he’s never had Kurt’s anger directed at him. Blaine’s not entirely sure where this came from. “I’ve read the articles. I know what everyone says. Poor Blaine Anderson, lost his only son because of his crazy, forgetful husband.”

“Stop,” Blaine said, throwing his arms up and making his way out of the room. He didn’t need to hear this. He had done a great job of holding all of his anger and resentment back up until this point, but he didn’t think he could control himself if Kurt kept pushing him like this.

“Blaine Anderson would never have lost his son,” Kurt said, standing up and following Blaine down the hall.

“I mean it, lay off,” Blaine said.

“Come on, you never would have been such a shitty parent—”

“That’s right, I wouldn’t!” Blaine yelled, finally snapping. The second the words left his mouth, he knew they were wrong. He had been keeping them in for a reason.

“Perfect Blaine Anderson never does anything wrong,” Kurt said, wearing a menacing smile. Blaine didn’t even recognize his husband. “Meanwhile, I’m stuck here being forced to take lie detector tests like some sort of criminal while Peyton’s kidnapper gets farther away.”

“I had to take the lie detector test, too,” Blaine yelled. He’d be damned if he let Kurt be the victim in all of this. “The difference is I didn’t throw a fit about it. I took it and moved on. It’s standard procedure; there was no point wasting time that should be spent on the investigation.”

“Of course you did.” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Is this about People Magazine?” Blaine asked.

They’ve been on the cover of magazines on and off for a few months, ever since Peyton’s kidnapping. Every time something new came up in the investigation, their names got brought up again. Most of the articles had been positive, focusing on helping Kurt and Blaine get Peyton back.

Last week, an issue of People hit the stands with Kurt on the cover under the headline, “Who’s to Blame?” Blaine hadn’t taken it very seriously; he knew that the media twisted any story to make things sell. He didn’t expect Kurt to see the article. Kurt barely leaves the house and when he does it’s just to go to the station. Even if Kurt did read the article, Blaine never would have thought he’d take it seriously. However, it’s the only explanation for Kurt’s sudden change of behavior.

“And there stood Blaine Anderson, looking like his entire world had been destroyed while he held up his overly-emotional husband,” Kurt said, repeating what had been written in the story. “Kurt Hummel has always been known to juggle a million things at once... Apparently being driven means I’m incapable of taking care of a child. It must be nice for you to never get attacked.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Blaine yelled, throwing his arms up in the air. How was any of this Blaine’s fault? He certainly hadn’t called up People and given them an exclusive. He didn’t do anything. It wasn’t like Blaine was walking around being showered with positive attention and his life was perfect.

“My son is missing,” Blaine said, his voice growing dark. He was reaching the breaking point. He had already lost his temper, a fight was unavoidable now, but he was reaching a dangerous edge—an edge where he was going to just stop caring altogether. The drinking wasn’t helping him stay stable either. Why did Kurt have to choose now to pick a fight, when he was drunk enough to forget most of this in the morning?

If his husband wasn’t going to support him, if his husband was going to brush his emotions away like they were worthless, what point was there to trying anymore?

“My baby got kidnapped and is possibly dead,” Blaine continued. He was already counting the steps he’d have to stumble through before he could get to the alley. He was mentally counting the cash he had in his wallet, debating if he’d need to stop at an ATM. He just needed to forget all of this. Feeling it was too heavy and sat on his chest in a way that was unbearable. “Why the fuck would any of this be nice? How dare you think that I’m somehow hurt less in any of this because of something some damn magazine said.”

“Well you never—”

“No!” Blaine yelled, scaring himself with how harsh his voice sounded. “You know what; I’m done talking about this with you. You lie here day in and day out and act like you’re so destroyed by this entire thing. Well let me tell you something, you aren’t the only one. You lost Peyton, it sucks. Trust me I get it, but move on. You, of all people, don’t get to sit around while the rest of us bust our asses to get back to normal. You don’t get to give up on life when I’m trying to keep this family together.”

Perhaps Blaine could get somebody to pick him up; he knows there were more than a few industry people that would be willing to supply him with what he’d need if he didn’t care about possible leaks to the media. At this point, would it really matter if they painted him as a drug-addicted, careless father? Would it hurt his chances of getting Peyton back?

Who was he kidding? Peyton wasn’t coming back.

“So you believe it’s my fault, too. That’s great,” Kurt says, storming past Blaine and pushing his way into the bedroom. “That’s fucking fantastic.”

Blaine followed after him. He wasn’t going to let Kurt get the last word in. He wasn’t going to allow him to end this thinking he was so much better than Blaine. He was sick of Kurt playing the only victim.

When he reached the bedroom, he was surprised to see Kurt throwing open their drawers haphazardly. He was pulling out various items of clothing and tossing them onto the bed. Blaine stood back and watched, not sure what was going on. Kurt reached under their bed and dragged out a duffle bag before standing up to start packing it full of clothes. Blaine’s clothes.

“What are you doing?” Blaine said, grabbing Kurt’s wrist after he shoved a Marc Jacobs shirt into the bag without bothering to fold it or worry about wrinkles.

“Packing,” Kurt said. “You don’t get to treat me like dirt anymore.”

“Excuse me?” Blaine asked, feeling like he’d been slapped.

Since when had he treated Kurt horribly? Blaine’s been the one to comfort Kurt every time he’d cried. Every single time. Never once had he cried on Kurt’s shoulder. Never once had he put all of his problems on Kurt like he should be able to. He’d been living without his best friend. He’d been living without his other half because Kurt was too fragile to help him.

Where did he get off?

“You look at me like I’m so broken because I’m crying over my missing son,” Kurt said, tears in his eyes. “Of course I’m fucking crying, you asshole. My son is gone. I’m not the one who’s tearing us apart just because I’m having a hard time adjusting to life without a child.”

Blaine didn’t have anything to say to that. Kurt didn’t see it; he couldn’t see how horrible it was to live with a zombie. How hard it was to get through the day when you’d call your partner and they wouldn’t pick up the phone because they hadn’t moved in six hours. There were days when Blaine wasn’t sure Kurt got up from bed to so much as use the bathroom.

“You talk about being this pillar of strength and wisdom because you’re able to walk around and maintain this air of normalcy. Acting like it’ll be perfect when Peyton comes back because you’ve kept a roof over our heads. Peyton’s not going to be so pleased to come back to an alcoholic father who thinks shooting up on occasion is acceptable. I want you to leave. You don’t get to call me a horrible person and blame me for losing our kid and be some pathetic addict.”

“Now you suddenly care about me?” Blaine said, his eyes filling up with tears at the thought of Kurt—the one person who was supposed to love him no matter what—throwing him out of his house. He’d been invisible for so long to Kurt. He’d been in need of so much help and couldn’t get it. Now Kurt decided to notice that he was a mess, and it was only long enough for him to throw Blaine out like a used pair of socks? Blaine didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“I’ve always cared about you,” Kurt said, giving Blaine this horrified look. “Is that what you think? That because I’m sad Peyton is gone, I somehow love you less?”

“I think that you act like this is a temporary thing,” Blaine said quietly, terrified that Kurt was going to freak out once he actually heard what Blaine had to say. “I think that Peyton’s been missing for awhile and even though I think he can still come back to us any day, we need to prepare in case he doesn’t. We can’t keep living our lives like this.”

“What does me wanting my son back have to do with not caring about you?” Kurt asked.

“You’re so fixated on every little detail about the case, convinced you’re going to solve it when detectives that have been doing this for years can’t find him,” he explained. “You never take the time to look around you. You don’t leave your bed most days and when you do it’s to look for Peyton. You haven’t even gone to the grocery store _once_. Would it kill you, would Peyton not come back if you picked up some god damned milk every once in awhile? I’m trying to keep us afloat but I can’t do it alone. Shit, Kurt, if Peyton came back tomorrow what would he say when his father can’t even get out of bed? Is that going to be his life? He’s going to need normal, do you even know what normal is anymore?”

“Do you?” Kurt said, grabbing Blaine’s arm and forcing up his sleeve to look at faded track marks.

“You think normal is putting on a smiling face and hiding the pain you’re feeling? You think that going to work every day and paying bills makes any of this normal? Our son is out there praying for his fathers to come and find him, I might not be trained, but at least I’m trying to help him. Do you think he’s going to show up in a bar randomly? Is that what you’re doing every night when you don’t come home until late? Or are you out there trying to find a new papa for Peyton, one that can just forget about their son like you.”

“I’m not forgetting about him!” Blaine screamed. “I’m just trying to get through this. I can’t even breathe most days. I feel like we’re treading in a deep ocean and nobody’s there to keep us up and you’re not even fucking kicking. Just fucking doggie paddle, nobody expects you to be able to swim! You’re perfectly happy to let us drown.”

“Maybe we should,” Kurt yelled.

“What?” Blaine asked, hoping he heard him wrong.

“What’s the point if Peyton’s never coming back?”

“Okay, you know what, that’s enough. First thing tomorrow morning we are going to a psychiatrist. You are getting medicated and talking to somebody and doing whatever you have to do to get out of this. Because the Kurt Hummel I know would never talk like that. He would never just give up.”

“That Kurt Hummel is gone, Blaine,” Kurt said.

“Fuck that,” Blaine said angrily. “You’re being so selfish here. Don’t you ever stop for a second to think that I might fucking need you? That I might be sinking and I might need you to hold me just once.”

Blaine was crying by this point and Kurt was reaching out to hold him, but it was too late. Blaine didn’t want it now; now that he’s had to ask for it. He should never have to ask for his husband to help him, he should just be there.

“Just once out of the millions of times I’ve picked up after you when you lose it,” Blaine continued. “Did you ever think that this might be hard for me, too? That I might need my best friend? You’re the only other person in this world that loved me unconditionally and you’re tossing me aside like I’m unimportant now. I lost Peyton; I didn’t have to lose you. You’re just giving up on me like I don’t matter, like you never really cared about anybody but Peyton. Why do you think I’m out drinking every night?”

“Blaine—”

“I’m going to my parents,” he said abruptly. He wasn’t sure where it came from. He would rather be here arguing with Kurt than putting up with his parents’ snide comments about his choice in partners. However, now that it’s out there, he isn’t about to take it back. He can be stubborn to a fault, and he isn’t about to budge.

“Your parents are assholes,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s not be so dramatic. I’ll sleep on the couch if you want to be alone.”

“I don’t want to be alone Kurt,” Blaine said, broken. “That’s the point. I want you, but you’re not doing anything. I don’t know how to do this anymore. So I’m going to go to my parents because as much as they suck, it’s gotta be better than staying here.”

“Blaine, don’t,” Kurt pleaded. “Please don’t go, I need you here.”

“You need me? Really?” Blaine said bitterly, he wasn’t going to stay because Kurt had needs. He had his own needs that had been ignored one too many times.

“We need each other,” Kurt corrected himself. “Just... let’s go to bed. We can talk about this in the morning when you’re not so drunk and I’m not so tired.”

“I don’t think I can do this anymore Kurt,” Blaine said, tentatively. He didn’t want to hope, he knew how easily hope could be destroyed. Things were so easily broken. Maybe Kurt was serious though, maybe things could change for them. “I can’t live like this.”

Kurt came over and pulled Blaine into a hug, rubbing his hair in a comforting way he hadn’t done since Peyton went missing. Blaine let him; it was nice to be held. Kurt was whispering soothing words into his ear and it felt like them again. It felt like there was a sliver of hope that they could get through this. So long as they had each other, they could get through this.

“We might never find him,” Blaine cried, knowing that he shouldn’t even bring it up. It was only going to ruin the moment.

“It’s okay,” Kurt said. Blaine was impressed that he didn’t argue back or urge him not to give up; he just continued to rub his hair. “I don’t care what you’ve done, all that matters is we aren’t going to do this anymore. Tomorrow morning you are starting rehab and I’m going to see that psychiatrist. We’re going to be a team and we are going to get through this together.”

“I love you,” Blaine said, realizing that it was the first time he’d uttered the words in weeks.

Kurt’s breath caught in an audible gasp, and he realized that the Kurt hadn’t been as oblivious as he’d thought. He’d noticed the change and distance as well.

“I love you too,” Kurt said, his voice catching as he started to cry. “Forever and always.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Bargaining: December 28, 2028**  
  
This Christmas season had been tough for Kurt and Blaine. It was the first major holiday without Peyton. Having never really celebrated Thanksgiving, they’d managed to avoid that emotional roller coaster in November by simply working through it. Kurt had started up again at his theatre, going in a few times a week to help supervise. It was a big relief to his assistant, Angie, who had been running the show in Kurt’s absence.   
  
Working again was good for Kurt, it helped distract him and gave him a reason to wake up in the morning. Blaine could tell the passion for the theatre wasn’t there, but he was hopeful that would come back in time, as the pain from Peyton’s absence began to dull.   
  
Christmas had set both of them back. Having outright refused to come back to Ohio for the holidays on the off chance something came up with Peyton’s case, both of their families decided to spend Christmas in New York City. Together.  
  
As if their first Christmas without Peyton wasn’t going to be hard enough, they had to worry about Blaine’s parents saying the wrong thing to Kurt’s and starting World War III. As it turned out, they should have been less worried for their parents and more worried for themselves. Christmas had been one attack after the other.   
  
It had started out with Carole innocently putting Christmas gifts under the tree for Peyton. Blaine hadn’t found anything wrong with that; it was nice to know other people thought of their son during the holidays. If Peyton ever came home, it’d be nice for him to know he’d still been loved, even if from a distance. Kurt didn’t see things like that. Kurt thought it was rude of his family to so obviously bring up Peyton’s absence when they knew how hard it was on him.  
  
Then there were Blaine’s parents, who kept slyly pointing out all of the ways in which Kurt was forgetful or neglectful. As if it was Kurt’s responsibility to keep the house in order for Blaine, Kurt had argued back. Blaine knew what they were really getting at, however. They blamed Kurt for Peyton’s absence. They’d been pushing for Blaine to get a divorce ever since the disappearance. They’d never liked the fact that Blaine was gay, but this was the final straw. If Blaine had married a nice little girl and stayed in Ohio, none of this ever would have happened.   
  
Cooper meant well and tried to keep the spirits high, but having two children running around their apartment again was just a constant stab to the heart. No matter how much Blaine loved his niece and nephew, he couldn’t look at them and not see his son. Kurt teared up every time they were in the same room as him. He’d feigned sick when they were opening gifts and stayed in bed so that he wouldn’t have to watch the kids unwrap gifts while Peyton’s sat unopened.   
  
Finally, there was a conversation with Burt that Blaine couldn’t get out of his head. His father-in-law sat the two of them down the day after Christmas when everyone else was out returning gifts and doing some sightseeing. He told Kurt and Blaine that they weren’t doing enough to move on. He called them out for every tiny mistake they’d been making, which Blaine didn’t think was entirely fair. He was in rehab five days a week whenever he didn’t have a gig. Kurt had been going to appointments with a psychiatrist and was taking anti-depression and anti-anxiety medications. They were both working, what was the big deal?   
  
“I love you both and I loved Peyton just as much as you two did,” Burt said. “But Peyton is gone and he’s not coming back. You both need to think long and hard—how long do you want to keep waiting on a ghost to come home? This is destroying your marriage. When was the last time you two were intimate?”  
  
Blaine had blushed at that, because he certainly wasn’t going to share that information with Burt. He had a point though. Blaine couldn’t remember the last time they had sex. He didn’t think they’d shared more than a short kiss since the kidnapping.  
  
“I just think you two would be much happier if you started focusing on each other again. Maybe think about having another baby. You two were meant to be fathers, I could tell how happy it made you. I think it’s time you both had a memorial service for Peyton and started to accept the fact that he’s not coming back. Even if it’s only for your own sanity.”  
  
Neither of them had taken Burt’s advice well. They weren’t about to replace Peyton with another baby. They could adopt fifteen babies and none of them would fill the void that Peyton left. He appreciated the effort, but he didn’t think that Burt really understood where they were coming from. This wasn’t a member of the family dying where they could lay a body to rest and come to terms with it. This was neither of them knowing what happened to Peyton. This was walking down the street and turning their heads at every boy that walked past, wondering if it was him. This was not knowing if Peyton was dead or alive, happy or scared. There would be no closure, not until the police could give them some answers.   
  
Nobody could relate to that.   
  
They were saved the train wreck of having to put on dinner for everyone’s last night in the city with a phone call from NYPD. A body had been found matching Peyton’s description. Kurt and Blaine were being asked to come to the station to ID the body.   
  
“Do you think it could really be him?” Cooper asked Blaine as they were saying their goodbyes and preparing to head over to the station.   
  
“They wouldn’t have called us if it wasn’t a possibility,” Blaine said calmly.   
  
He didn’t want to show his family how hopeful he was. He didn’t want to give them another reason to pity him. So he remained perfectly calm and explained to them that they would call with the news. Inside, however, Blaine was freaking out. He just wanted it to be Peyton so bad. Even if it meant that his son was dead, at least they would finally have some answers. At least the constant waiting and guessing would be over. He’d always prepared for this possibility. He knew cases like Elizabeth Smart were incredibly rare. It was far more common for missing children to be returned home dead.  
  
He just wanted it to be over. He would give almost anything to have some answers. He’d already given up the drinking and the drugs, hoping that if he cleaned up his life karma would grant him a favor. He didn’t have much left to offer, but at this point he would empty his bank account for answers. He would give up his career, his apartment, everything.   
  
Well, maybe not everything. He still had one thing left in the world worth keeping, Kurt.   
  
“What if it’s not him?” Kurt asked, his voice was quiet. His voice got like that when he was curious about something but didn’t know if he really wanted to know.   
  
“It has to be,” Blaine said, trying to sound confident.   
  
“You don’t have to lie to me,” Kurt replied, pulling Blaine’s hand into his lap and squeezing it hard. “Whatever happens, we promised to be there for each other. You don’t have to worry about me.”  
  
“I think I’m worried about me,” Blaine admitted.   
  
“I can’t tell if I’m supposed to hope it’s him or not,” Kurt said. “If it’s him, that means Peyton’s really dead. Then again, if it’s not, we’re still stuck here with no clue what really happened to him.”  
  
Blaine didn’t say anything in response. He didn’t know what there was to say that hadn’t been said a million times before. They rode in silence the rest of the way to the station, each lost in their own thoughts. By the time they reached the all too familiar building, they were a mess of nerves, anticipation, and dread.   
  
“Hey guys,” Detective Trenton greeted them at the door. They have been working with several different officers over the last few months trying to find Peyton, but Detective Trenton had been there since day one and was very good at dealing with them without treating them like they were made of glass. He was also one of the few people that had yet to consider the likelihood that Peyton was dead. Detective Trenton had promised to continue spending every second searching for Peyton until he was found.   
  
“Hey,” they responded, following him back through the station and into a private conference room where they could have some privacy to talk.   
  
“I hate to have to bring you guys in for this, but it’s procedure and DNA testing won’t come back for awhile, they are always much slower than they make it seem on TV,” he explained to them.   
  
Blaine held Kurt’s hand under the table; he didn’t know who it was more for, himself or Kurt.   
  
“I’m going to take you in to see the body now, but I want to warn you, it’s going to be a little rough,” he says. Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hand a little tighter, but tries to keep his face neutral. He can handle this.   
  
“The body has been at the bottom of a river for awhile, so there is going to be some decay. It’s important that you really look closely at everything so that you can accurately tell us whether the boy that we’ve found is your son or not. The mind can play tricks on you and when you’ve been under as much stress as you are, you might see your son there when it isn’t. On the flip side, your mind might try and trick you into believing that it isn’t your son because you don’t want to believe that something like this could have happened to him. This is all normal,” he said in a calm soothing voice that Blaine had grown to trust.   
  
“We’re ready,” Kurt said.   
  
“Okay,” the detective said, standing up and motioning for them to follow him. “Just remember what I said, you don’t have to answer right away, take your time and make sure that the answer you give us is correct.”  
  
“I think I’ll know my own son,” Kurt said, snapping a little bit.   
  
“Relax,” Blaine reminded him, rubbing his back to calm him down. “That’s not what he’s saying.”  
  
The three of them made their way over to the elevator where they rode down to the basement level. When the doors opened, Blaine felt a rush of cool air where the heater hadn’t quite warmed up the basement like it had the rest of the building. The walls were concrete and painted an unattractive grey color. It would have been in poor taste to decorate with bright colors, but Blaine thought they could have done more to make the medical examiners office a little less foreboding.   
  
Detective Trenton walked them to a desk where a younger looking college student was working, most likely interning. He filled out some paperwork and then when he was done the girl showed all three of them down the hall and into one of the rooms. She looked down the row of lockers until she reached the one she wanted and pulled it out. The body was covered with white linen and Blaine felt his breath catch in his throat. This was it; he could be seeing his son again after far too long.   
  
“Are you both ready?” the detective asked.   
  
They both nodded, not trusting themselves to speak. The detective pulled the linen down to reveal the little boys face. He was so tiny, just like Peyton. He had light brown hair; Blaine wondered if it would turn blonde in the summer sun. He looked clean, his hair was combed, and dirt and grime had been washed from his body, likely by the coroner. The boy’s eyes were closed, but they were probably golden brown behind his lids. The detective wouldn’t have called them down before checking something as simple as eye color matching.   
  
The boy’s body was covered in cuts, scars, and bruises. Parts of his skin looked like it had been bitten off, but Blaine reminded himself that likely happened after he’d been dumped into the river. His kidnapper may have hurt him bad, but he wasn’t Hannibal Lector.   
  
“Oh, God,” Kurt gasped, his breath catching in his throat.   
  
Kurt reached out and ran his hand through the boy’s hair, his mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t begin to find the right words to say.   
  
“That’s not him,” Blaine said quietly, while Kurt continued to mourn over the young boy’s body.   
  
“You look just like him,” Kurt said to the boy. “Your poor parents. Who would do this to you?”  
  
“You’re absolutely certain?” the detective said, fixing them with a concerned look.   
  
“Yes,” Blaine said, stepping up to the table. “This isn’t his nose.” Blaine runs a sympathetic finger down the boy’s nose that is slightly thinner compared to Peyton’s button nose.   
  
“He doesn’t have a scar right here,” Kurt said, running his finger along the back of the boy’s arm near his shoulder. “He got bit by my brother-in-law’s dog when he was two.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Blaine said. “He looks just like Peyton, where is my son?”  
  
The detective gave them a glum look before gently pulling them away from the table and covering the boy back up. He leads them back out of the room while the intern cleans everything up. Nobody speaks until they reach the conference room again.   
  
“What’s going on?” Blaine asked, sensing that something was very wrong but not understanding what.   
  
“A few weeks ago, another little boy went missing, this time in Wisconsin. His name’s Nathan Renner,” Detective Trenton started, giving them a concerned look. “He matched your son’s description to a T. It raised some flags for us, but could very well have been a coincidence. We’ve looked into the case and shared information with the Milwaukee Police Department, but there was nothing unique enough about the cases for us to tie them together.”  
  
“But now?” Kurt asked, perking up at the idea that they police might have a new lead to follow.   
  
Blaine just felt sick. The thought that another family might be suffering as much as they were made him feel horrible. Was his son taken by some creep that made it a habit of stealing children and dumping them into rivers when he is done with them? Thinking that Peyton had been taken by a man like that was causing him to have a panic attack.   
  
Kurt reached over and began rubbing his back. Without even having to look at him, Kurt could sense the effect this was having on him.   
  
“Breathe.” Kurt turned to mouth to him.   
  
“Now we know that the little boy you saw downstairs isn’t Nathan Renner or Peyton,” Detective Trenton explained. “Which means there is another little boy out there who is missing whose parents either don’t know it yet or haven’t reported it to the authorities.”  
  
“That’s horrible,” Kurt said, Blaine was too worked up to be able to say much of anything.   
  
It’s funny, with how often Kurt got worked up over Peyton’s disappearance, he always managed to handle police business with a calm grace. He never lost his control completely, at least not while he was talking to the detectives. It was strange for Blaine to have to rely on Kurt throughout this, when it had been so long since Blaine could rely on Kurt for anything. He was happy to see that the few counseling sessions they had done together seemed to be paying off.   
  
“What does this mean for Peyton?”   
  
“Unfortunately, this isn’t a good sign,” Detective Trenton said. “Kids that get taken like this, as a serial thing, are typically being sold or murdered. With finding this boy, it’s looking more and more like we might not find Peyton alive.”  
  
“Oh, God,” Blaine said, burying his head in his hands. He began crying, he just couldn’t handle the thought of Peyton lying at the bottom of some river.  
  
“I’m not saying that we are going to give up,” Detective Trenton said. “I made you a promise and I’m not giving up until I have answers. I’m not saying it’s impossible that Peyton will come home either; we should never give up hope completely. I just want you to be completely informed of what’s going on so that you can be prepared.”  
  
“Thank you Detective,” Kurt said, standing up. He helped Blaine to his feet as well and wrapped his arm around his waist to help keep him up. Blaine couldn’t stop crying.   
  
“I’ll let you know if I find out anything more,” Detective Trenton said, holding out his hand to shake Kurt’s. He gave Blaine a sympathetic look before showing them to the door.   
  
They made their way out of the station and over to the street where Kurt began trying to hail them a cab. Blaine pulled his arm down.   
  
“I don’t want to go home,” Blaine explained when Kurt gave him a weird look.   
  
“Let’s walk,” Kurt said, gesturing in the direction of Central Park.   
  
They walked for several minutes without saying anything, both trying to process what they had seen and heard back there. It took some time, but Blaine finally managed to stop crying in just enough time for Kurt to start.   
  
Once they reached the park, Blaine led them over to an empty bench in a somewhat secluded area so they could have some privacy. Not that many people were out at the park in the dead of winter, but their faces were recognizable enough and articles of them were still popping up in every magazine and newspaper that Blaine wouldn’t put it past people to try and sell their photograph.   
  
“I shouldn’t have worked that day,” Blaine said, vocalizing some of the guilt that had been eating away at him lately. He had always blamed Kurt for Peyton’s disappearance, but as he began to get further into his twelve-step program he was realizing he had plenty of guilt of his own to bear. “If I didn’t have that gig, I could have taken him to get his uniform. I knew you were busy with the show. He shouldn’t have had to go into work with you; I knew he didn’t like it.”  
  
“I should have made him come with me to check on Angie,” Kurt cried. “Who leaves a little kid alone, no matter where you are?”  
  
“I shouldn’t have been so angry at you for working,” Blaine said. “I was pissed that you were missing the show. Do you think this is karma getting back at me for being so selfish? Because I’ll never do it again if it means we can have him back.”  
  
“I’ll quit work,” Kurt said. “If Peyton came home, I’d quit. I’d be a stay at home dad like he deserved.”  
  
“He’s never coming back,” Blaine said somberly, hating how the words sounded in his mouth. “He took this boy and now he’s dead. That poor little kid. If he was willing to kill him, why would he keep Peyton alive?”  
  
“I want to catch the asshole that’s doing this so bad,” Kurt said. “I should have had cameras installed in the theatre. There’s no way he would have gotten away if I had installed that security system.”  
  
“How the hell did he even get in?” Blaine asked for the millionth time since Peyton was taken. “The police said there were no signs of forced entry and you know everyone that has a key!”  
  
“It has to be somebody that worked for me,” Kurt said, obviously getting upset at the thought of one of his employees taking his son. Somebody that Kurt personally hired.   
  
“The police have talked to every single employee, they’re clean!” Blaine argued, working himself up again. His fingernails were digging into his palms from where he had his fists clinched tightly.   
  
“Then somebody left the door open.”  
  
“They automatically close,” Blaine countered.   
  
“Then Peyton just wandered off of his own accord. If I knew what happened, we’d have all these answers already,” Kurt said growing frustrated.   
  
“I just… I don’t understand. I just want to understand who does that to a child,” Blaine said. “I don’t want to think that somebody did that to our Peyton.”  
  
“I’d give anything, just to know,” Kurt said.   
  
That was really all it was. They’d reached the point where they were willing to accept the idea that they might never get Peyton back again. They would never be able to rest until they at least understood what had happened. They certainly wouldn’t be able to rest if Peyton’s kidnapper was continuing to take more and more children.   
  
****  
  
 **Depression: October 20, 2029**  
  
“A Massachusetts kidnapping case has come to an astounding end as police have discovered Brian Lee, a boy who was kidnapped just after getting off the school bus when he was seven years old. The 2025 disappearance of Lee made national news and lead to an intense search but never with any results. Now, four years later, police have finally identified his kidnapper and are able to return Brian, now eleven years old, to his loving parents in Essex.”  
  
Blaine and Kurt had just finished up watching a movie together on the couch when the news came on with the story of Brian Lee’s return. He was a young Asian boy. He looked nothing like the boys that had been taken by Peyton’s kidnapper. This was an entirely unrelated case, so Blaine knew it was silly to get this upset over it, but he was.   
  
“Those parents must be so relieved,” Kurt said, causing Blaine to give him a double take.   
  
“What?” Blaine asked, confused. Was Kurt smiling? Why wasn’t he falling apart like Blaine currently was? He counted on Kurt’s dramatic reactions to make him feel more sane.   
  
“Well, their son has been gone for four years, they must be happy to have him home. I’m happy for them, I know how I would feel if we got that phone call,” Kurt explained.   
  
Kurt had been acting strange lately. Talking about going back to work full time and opening a new play. He’d even gone as far to mention possibly adopting another child, not to replace Peyton, but to give a child in need a loving home. Blaine didn’t understand how he could possibly be okay with any of this. It wasn’t fair. Why did Kurt get to make peace with everything that had happened while Blaine was still drowning in it all?  
  
Blaine didn’t say anything to Kurt. What was he supposed to say? That he wasn’t happy for a family that had been living in fear that their child was dead? He wasn’t that selfish. At least, he wasn’t going to admit to being that selfish aloud. The truth was, any child that got returned to their parents that wasn’t Peyton angered him. Why did everyone else get a happy ending and Blaine didn’t? What made him such a horrible person?  
  
Blaine stood up and went to put on his shoes. The apartment was stifling, he couldn’t breathe. He just had to get out. Kurt watched him with a strange look, but didn’t stop him from leaving or ask where he was going. Blaine wasn’t sure if that made him grateful or even more upset. He grabbed his coat and headed out the door, not sure where he was heading but knew that anywhere had to be better than here.   
  
As soon as the cool October air hit his face, he began crying. He’d never fully mourned the loss of his son—not like Kurt had. He was always holding back since he’d needed to take care of two people. Kurt didn’t need him anymore though, and that realization just sent him into a depression. All along, no matter how much he lost it and how deep he got into his addictions, he’d always been able to stay somewhat composed because of Kurt. Kurt needed him and Blaine loved him enough to stay strong for him. Now he had no reason to stay strong.   
  
Before Blaine fully realized where he was headed, he was standing outside of the local bar in their neighborhood. It hadn’t quite been a year since the last time he went in. He was two weeks away from getting his one year chip in AA. Blaine was trying to convince himself that he didn’t need to go inside, but his feet weren’t moving.   
  
Why did the rest of the world get to be happy and he didn’t? Even Kurt got to move on, so why shouldn’t he drown his sorrows in a drink. At least then he’d be able to forget about it for a little bit. He’d promised Kurt that he wouldn’t drink anymore, but he wasn’t sure he owed Kurt anything. Not when he had the nerve to talk to Blaine about adopting again, as if that would ever be an option for him.   
  
“You shouldn’t be here, sweetheart,” Nate, one of the bartenders that Blaine had gotten to know fairly well last year said, rubbing his back in a way that was a little too sensual to be simply comforting. “That husband of yours asked us not to serve you anymore.”  
  
“So you’re not going to serve me?” Blaine asked, looking down the street. He should take this as a sign to turn around and go home; he should go back to the husband that Blaine had promised he would stop drinking for. He didn’t turn around and leave though, and he wondered if he was desperate enough to walk a few more block’s another bar.   
  
“Not here, at least,” Nate said. “Lou doesn’t let us serve anyone we know is in AA. But I’m just getting off my shift. I’d be willing to make you some drinks back home and nobody would ever have to know. You look like you need to forget for a night.”  
  
“They haven’t found Peyton,” Blaine said, crying a bit.   
  
Nate opens his arms to Blaine and he falls into them, allowing the man to comfort him. Blaine knew that the arms around him were wrong, that they weren’t Kurt’s. He knew that he should turn Nate down and go back to his own apartment. That if he just told Kurt what he needed, his husband would help him.   
  
However, there was a darker part of Blaine welcomed the distraction. A part that welcomed a fresh set of arms that could comfort him without making him feel bad for needing the comfort in the first place. Kurt never made him feel guilty on purpose, but Blaine had a bad habit of feeling responsible for everyone else that made letting someone comfort him hard sometimes.  
  
“Come on, my place is only two blocks away,” Nate said. “We should get out of the street before anyone recognizes you and starts taking pictures.”  
  
Nate had a point, the last thing Blaine needed was pictures of him crying outside of a bar to end up on the internet. It would make the front page of all the tabloids.   
  
Blaine walked with Nate’s arm securely around his waist down the street until they reached a quaint three floor walk-up. Nate unlocked his door and let Blaine inside. It was a small but cozy place. It was neat but looked well lived in.   
  
“Here take a seat,” Nate said, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get us something to drink.”  
  
Blaine sat down on the couch, looking around the room. There was a small fireplace, which was a nice feature and such a rare find in this neighborhood. A flat screen TV hung above the fireplace, while bookcases filled with DVDs sat on either side.   
  
“This is a nice place,” Blaine said, nervously trying to make casual conversation.   
  
He never had a hard time talking to strangers before; his job demanded that he be able to make conversation with anybody at anytime. However, this was different. This was bordering on date material—something Blaine hadn’t done in years. Blaine hadn’t wanted to ever do something like this. He wasn’t exactly sure why he found himself here to begin with.   
  
“I moved in a few months ago,” Nate said back from the kitchen. “Finally got tired of having a roommate. Now it’s just me, allowed to make all the noise I want, all night long.”  
  
Blaine might have been oblivious at times, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what Nate was hinting at. What he didn’t know is if he would stop if Blaine simply ignored his flirtation. He walked in carrying two Long Islands, Blaine’s old drink of choice.   
  
“You remembered?” Blaine asked.   
  
“Of course I did,” Nate said. “You’re a rather hard customer to forget.”  
  
“Because of the media,” Blaine said, knowingly. Between his sizable fan following around the city and the news coverage of Peyton’s disappearance, there weren’t very many places he could go where people wouldn’t recognize him.   
  
“Because you’re so handsome,” Nate countered back, running a hand through Blaine’s ungelled hair. Blaine hadn’t meant to leave the house like this, he usually only left his hair like this when he was hanging around the house all day long. Then again, he hadn’t exactly planned on ending up here tonight. Or ever.   
  
“I like your hair like this,” Nate said, flirtatiously.   
  
Blaine got a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realized that Nate wasn’t going to stop pursuing him. None of this was right to him. He was used to people flirting with him shamelessly, it came with his job. However, there was a huge difference between somebody winking suggestively over a meet and greet table and being alone in another man’s apartment.   
  
“I shouldn’t be here.” Blaine stood up suddenly, accidentally knocking over his drink. He frantically tried to right his glass, but it was too late. The coffee table was now soaking wet, along with several magazines. “Shit, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Calm down, babe,” Nate said, standing up to rub his back. This time Nate’s hand slipped lower on his back, resting just above his ass. “You’re way too tense.”  
  
“I have a husband,” Blaine said, backing away. He couldn’t cheat on Kurt—he wouldn’t cheat on Kurt. They had been together though everything and never once had either of them strayed. He wasn’t about to now.   
  
“Like I said, nobody has to know,” Nate said. “I’m great at keeping secrets. Tell me; is your husband really pleasing you like you need? You look like you haven’t had a decent blow job in months.”  
  
Nate backed Blaine up until his back hit the wall. Then he lowered himself down to his knees and moved to grab Blaine’s belt. Blaine slapped his hands away.   
  
“No,” Blaine said, harshly. “I’m sorry. I know I gave you the wrong impression coming here, but I’m just… I can’t be here.”  
  
Blaine grabbed his coat and ran out of the apartment as fast as he could. He didn’t stop running until he was ten blocks away and had reached the neighborhood school. He stopped to catch his breath, breathing deeply to try and slow down his pounding heart. He made his way past the gate of the school to sit on one of the swings. Once he felt like he could breathe again, he pulled out his phone to call Kurt.   
  
“Blaine?” Kurt answered, his voice sounding panicked. “Are you alright? I went looking for you but I couldn’t find you. Where are you?”  
  
At the sound of Kurt’s worried voice, the guilt of everything that had just happened came crashing down on him. Not only was he in a position to have sex with somebody that wasn’t Kurt, he had almost started drinking again. He had run out on his husband without even trying to talk to him about how he was feeling. Instead he chose to drown his sorrows with a bottle—and with another man.   
  
“Blaine?” Kurt asked again, his voice going high like it did when he was worked up. “I can’t come get you if you don’t tell me where you are.”  
  
“School,” Blaine whimpered, surprised he could even get that much out past all of his tears.   
  
“Okay, don’t hang up,” Kurt said. “I’m on my way, alright?”  
  
Blaine nodded, though Kurt couldn’t see him. He felt like he would drown in his tears. He had been feeling numb for so long; now that he had broken through that and could feel again, all he felt was pain.   
  
Fifteen minutes later, Kurt reached the playground. He hung up his phone then reached over and gently pried Blaine’s phone out of his hands and slipped it into his pocket. He didn’t say a word; he simply pulled Blaine into a tight hug while Blaine sobbed into his chest. He hear Kurt take a deep breath and he knew the he could probably smell the alcohol that Blaine had managed to spill on himself, but he didn’t say a word. Kurt rubbed a comforting hand up and down his back which only served to remind Blaine of Nate, which made everything worse.  
  
He didn’t understand why Kurt even bothered to put up with him. He was a horrible husband. He deserved to be with somebody that could take care of him completely without depending on alcohol to get through his day. He shouldn’t have to hold up Blaine, he should be with somebody better. Somebody stronger.   
  
It’s no wonder Blaine lost his son. He was never a good enough son. He couldn’t manage being a good husband for Kurt. Who would expect him to be a good dad? He was worthless.   
  
“It’s going to be okay,” Kurt said. “Everything is going to be alright.”  
  
“You don’t understand,” Blaine said. There was no point trying to explain, every time he’d tried in the past he just couldn’t find the words. Kurt didn’t understand—he’d never been a failure like Blaine was.   
  
“Who could understand better than me?” Kurt asked. He pulled back and cradled Blaine’s face in his hands, forcing him to look at Kurt. “Now you listen to me, you are one of the bravest, strongest people that I know. Whatever is going on, it can’t change that. It’s going to be alright.”  
  
“I almost cheated on you tonight,” Blaine said, fixing his eyes on the ground so he wouldn’t have to see the pain he knew that he would see if he looked at Kurt.   
  
“You what?” Kurt asked. He didn’t sound upset or distraught, he just sounded confused. Blaine didn’t blame him. They didn’t cheat on each other, they didn’t even think about the possibility of other guys. They’d learned that lesson when they were young and haven’t had to deal with that nightmare since.   
  
“When I left, I went to Paulie’s Bar,” Blaine admitted. “I’m not even sure how I ended up there; I was just so upset and angry that I just walked. When I finally stopped, that’s where I was.”  
  
“I don’t understand. I thought you were doing so well. I thought that AA was working? You told me that it was working,” Kurt said, all in a single breath. Blaine could hear him start to panic. He felt horrible, because he knew that Kurt was starting to doubt him. He knew that Kurt was thinking that Blaine had been lying to him all along.   
  
“It is,” Blaine said, growing frustrated. “It was. I guess I just haven’t felt this way in a long time.”  
  
“What way?” Kurt asked.  
  
“Helpless,” he said. “Like I have no control over my life. I don’t know, seeing that boy return home, it just made me so angry. Why does everybody else get a happy ending? Why can’t we?”  
  
“That boy was gone for four years,” Kurt said, sadly. “Peyton’s been gone a little over a year. That’s a long time, but that doesn’t mean he won’t ever come home. Some kids are missing for years and years before they are ever returned home.”  
  
“How can you be so okay with this?” Blaine asked.   
  
“Because it doesn’t make sense to punish other families just because we are in pain,” Kurt said. “Do you know how many children get kidnapped every year? 20,000. I’m just supposed to think that none of those kids deserves to be rescued until they can find Peyton?”  
  
“I just miss him so much sometimes,” Blaine cried.   
  
“Me, too,” Kurt said. “Every single day, but we need to figure out a way to live with that pain. There’s no point in wishing everyone else misery just because we’ve had it tough.”  
  
“I didn’t drink anything,” Blaine admitted, feeling the need to clear that up before he continued on with his story.”  
  
“That’s good,” Kurt said. “I’m proud of you.”  
  
“You shouldn’t be,” Blaine said, thinking of how close he’d been to cheating on his husband.  
  
“Of course I’m going to be proud of you for not drinking. You worked too hard to relapse now. So where have you been? I walked into a few bars in the area looking for you before you called, so I know you weren’t there.”  
  
“Nate, one of the bartenders, said that they wouldn’t serve me because they knew I was in AA. So he offered to take me to his place for a drink. I’m not sure why I agreed.”  
  
Kurt nodded, but he didn’t say anything. Blaine could see the smoke building, but he managed to remain calm. Blaine knew that Kurt would wait to respond until he heard the entire story. This was a true sign of how much things have changed since high school.   
  
“I’m not sure why I agreed, I could tell that he was propositioning me from the start. I never was going to do anything about it; I will never cheat on you. I just… I don’t know. I’m not sure why I agreed. I guess it was just easier than dealing with everything.”  
  
“Than dealing with me?” Kurt asked sounding hurt.   
  
“Yes.” He felt like an asshole for saying it, but it was the truth. “I can’t lie when I talk to you; I have to deal with everything. It just seemed easier to escape that for a little bit. I stopped before I did anything with him. I stopped before I drank anything, too. I know it was stupid.”  
  
“Yes, it was,” Kurt said.  
  
Blaine took a deep sigh, preparing for the worst. This was it, this is where Kurt realized what a complete screw up Blaine was and left.   
  
“Running off this late at night is dangerous, especially with who you are,” Kurt lectured. “And you’ve worked so hard on getting sober; it’s stupid for you to mess that up now just because you were upset when you had a loving husband at home that would have helped you through what was bothering you.”  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Blaine said, his breath hitching as he tried not to start crying again. He deserved everything that Kurt was saying, so he didn’t get to cry about it and play the victim card. He did this to himself.   
  
“Blaine,” Kurt said, in a fond, exasperated tone. “This is hardly the first time you’ve done something stupid. Just like I’ve done few stupid things myself. I’m not going to suddenly break up with you over it. I told you when we got married; you’re kind of stuck with me.”  
  
“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted somebody else,” Blaine said.   
  
“Impossible,” Kurt said, cutting him off. “So stop being an idiot, and let’s go home.”  
  
Kurt went to take Blaine’s hand but he shook his head and gestured to the empty swing next to him. Kurt smiled and sat down next to him. The two of them spent the rest of the night and the early hours of the morning talking to each other. They stayed up late to share every hope, every fear that they’d ever had, like they used to do when they were teenagers. They discussed Peyton and the reservations that they both had about allowing themselves to move on. They talked about children, agreeing that they didn’t think they’d ever be able to handle a new baby again. They did agree that, when the time was right, they would start looking into becoming foster parents so that they could help kids in need—the way they hoped somebody out there would help their son if he ever needed it.   
  
Then, after hours upon hours of talking, after getting to know each other again and feeling closer than they had in years, the two of them watched the sun rise on a brand new day.   
  
****  
  
 **Acceptance: April 23, 2034**  
  
The apartment was a disaster—Kurt had costume samples, scripts and unfinished props spread out in the living room where Lisa was currently burrowed into a chair reading her history text book and studying for her midterm. Kevin was running around the apartment to get ready for his soccer match. He kept going in and out of the kitchen where he was trying to eat lunch, and rummaging through his bedroom where he was constantly remembering a forgotten part of his uniform or equipment. Kurt was in the kitchen trying to pack a snack for the team since they’d forgotten it was their week to bring treats to the soccer game. Meanwhile, Blaine was in the girls room trying to calm down Sarah, who had just arrived last night and would only be staying with them for a week while CPS investigated her parents further and social services was locating her grandparents.   
  
In other words, it was a normal Sunday at the Anderson-Hummel house.   
  
Blaine and Kurt hadn’t quite known what they were getting into when they signed up to be foster parents a year and a half ago, but they did know that they had plenty of love to give and there were numerous kids in the city that could benefit from staying with them. It had taken a few years to come to this point, a point where they felt okay welcoming new children into their home—always afraid of replacing Peyton, but eventually they realized that a new child would never take the place of their own.   
  
So on August 31st, 2032, four years after Peyton’s disappearance, Kurt and Blaine welcomed Lisa into their home. She had been 12 at the time, a seventh grader who had been put into the system after her abusive father was sent to prison and her mother refused to take her. It had been rough at first, with her being hesitant to trust men, but eventually they all found their footing and grew comfortable around each other. They weren’t her parents, but they weren’t stupid either. The likelihood of Lisa getting adopted now, when she was 14 and a freshman in high school, was slim. They were fully prepared to care for her until she graduated from high school and long after that if she still needed them.   
  
Six months later, they felt secure enough to agree to take in a little boy Peyton’s age. He was nine years old and sometimes Blaine had to remind himself that he wasn’t his son. Peyton was still out there in the world, missing. Dead or alive, he was gone. Kevin wasn’t their son. It was rough at first, but it felt nice to have a boy in the house again. They went to all of Kevin’s soccer games and set up their work schedules so that one of them could always be home to help him with his homework after school.   
  
Kevin was a crack baby, so he had several learning disabilities that made school hard for him. He was starting to perform better in school lately, and there had been a few families that expressed interest in adopting Kevin. It was sad, yet exciting thinking that Kevin would finally have a home to call his own. As much as Kurt and Blaine would have loved to be his parents, they knew that fostering just wasn’t the same as adoption. Kevin deserved to be adopted, every child did.   
  
The phone rang as Blaine was just getting Sarah to come out from under the bed and he hoped Kurt would answer it. He didn’t have the time to talk to whoever it was when it had already taken him an hour to coax Sarah out. He heard the phone stop after the second ring and could faintly hear Kurt’s greeting.   
  
“It’s alright, Sarah,” Blaine said, wanting to pull her into his arms the second her body emerged from under the bed frame, but he refrained. He knew how skittish children in the foster care system could be and that a big part in gaining the child’s trust was in letting them come to you.   
  
“I want my mommy,” Sarah whimpered. They were the first words she’d muttered since arriving yesterday.   
  
“Your mommy can’t be here right now,” Blaine explained cautiously. He’d gone through this with every child that came through their house, and they’d had their fair share of temporary placements. He tried not to take it personally that the kids that stayed always asked for their parents. He knew that didn’t make him any less of a parent because they didn’t want him. It was just natural for a child to call out for their mom and dad. It still stung though.   
  
“I know she loves you very much though. Why don’t we go and get some lunch together,” Blaine said. “Your grandma and grandpa are supposed to come and get you on Monday. I know they’d want you to eat lunch with us.”  
  
“I’m not hungry,” she sniffled. “I want my mommy.”  
  
“Blaine?” Kevin asked, coming to the door with a worried expression on his face.   
  
“What is it?” he asked, worried. Kurt was out there with Kevin, why wasn’t he dealing with this when Blaine clearly had his hands full?   
  
“Kurt is crying.”  
  
“What?” Blaine asked. He immediately stood up and moved to investigate. When he entered the kitchen he saw Kurt sitting at the kitchen table, the phone resting by his hand, silent tears falling from his eyes.   
  
“What’s going on?” Blaine asked, kneeling beside him.   
  
Blaine placed a comforting hand on Kurt’s knee that seemed to snap him out of his daze.   
  
“The police arrested Charlie Green today,” Kurt whispered, his voice trembling.   
  
“Who?”   
  
“Charlie Green,” Kurt said, his voice growing louder and his eyes getting more excited. “He used to be a stagehand for me. They arrested him for selling drugs to an undercover cop.”  
  
“Okay?” Blaine wasn’t so sure why they were supposed to care about one of Kurt’s old employees getting caught dealing drugs.   
  
“When they searched his apartment, they found a little boy,” Kurt said, giving Blaine a significant look.   
  
“Peyton?” He whispered, barely letting himself hope.  
  
Kurt shook his head.   
  
“He was young, four or so,” Kurt said. “But Blaine… they think he’s the one.”  
  
“Oh, my God.”   
  
Blaine ran his hands over his face then stood up abruptly and started pacing the kitchen. His hands moved frantically between his hair and his face. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had stopped spending every single moment needing answers, but that didn’t mean that he’d ever stopped hoping. Praying that one day they would finally know what happened. Wishing that they could capture the man that took their son and stop him from kidnapping other children.   
  
“Where is he?” Blaine asked, knowing that Kurt would understand he was asking for Peyton.   
  
“The police don’t know,” Kurt said. “He won’t admit to taking anyone besides the boy that they found. They said it’s obvious to them that he’s taken other boys as well. They’ve found evidence that at least seven other boys have been in that apartment.”  
  
“Kurt—” Blaine’s voice caught in his throat as tears filled his eyes. He didn’t know if they were tears of relief or tears of pain knowing that they found their son’s kidnapper and they didn’t find Peyton. Knowing that this meant their son was gone forever.   
  
“I know.” Kurt opened his arms and Blaine fell to his knees into Kurt’s embrace. They both began weeping, overcome with a storm of varying emotions. This was everything they had been asking for for years. This could be the answer to all the questions they’d ever had about what happened the day that Peyton disappeared.   
  
“What’s going on?” Kevin asked from the doorway. “Why are you both crying?”  
  
Kurt stood up and walked over to kneel beside the boy who was so close in age to Peyton. It sent a sharp pang through Blaine’s heart to know that, had it not been for one horrible day in their life, Kurt would be talking to their own son right now. The past was the past, and they had to learn to accept that there were things that happened that were beyond their control.   
  
So as much as it hurt to know that Peyton wouldn’t be found alive; as much as it would kill them to have Charlie Green continue to deny ever having any involvement with Peyton; no matter that they would never find their son’s boy—they at least had the solace of knowing that their son was resting in peace, no longer getting abused. They would be able to sleep at night knowing—thanks to DNA testing on some blood found in an old trunk—that Charlie Green had taken their son. That the horrible man who’d kidnapped, raped and killed eleven boys over fifteen years was going to be locked away and sentenced to death.   
  
Peyton would never come home again and that hurt. However, they’d have several children come in and out of their lives to take care of. They’d help give kids a home away from drug addicts, sexual predators, absentee parents and they’d help other children learn to deal with death in healthy ways. They’d never fully replace the void in their heart left by their son, but they’d gain a new purpose in life. They’d be able to use what they went through and what happened to their son to help out countless other children over the years.   
  
So while it wasn’t the happy ending Kurt and Blaine dreamed of, it was enough for them to finally have answers. It was enough to be able to open their hearts again fully—both to these children that needed them and to each other. Life would go on, and they knew that this would be what Peyton would have wanted for them. To be happy, healthy and open to love again. Even though it was painful, Peyton’s kidnapping had taught them that love never ends, sometimes it’s just put on hold until the pain subsides.


End file.
